


BULLRING

by vanhunks



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kathryn Janeway opted for command track in her senior year, being a member of an elite squadron meant being the strongest link. An Academy story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BULLRING

**Author's Note:**

> Please read notes at the end of this story. This is a "Janeway at the Academy" story. In this case, a fourth year [senior] cadet. 
> 
> Disclaimer; Paramount owns the characters.

BULLRING

Someone pushed her so hard that she stumbled forward and landed against another cadet who punched her in the gut, laughing as he did so. She'd been beaten, shoved and fought back as hard as the punches that landed against her. At times her own punches landed against an adversary, but always they kept coming. She was winded and tired, but the fight had not left her. They'd have to kill her today. Try and explain that away to your commanding officers. 

Breathing hard, she made eye contact with one aggressor, her fists ready to strike. 

"You're pleading, Janeway?"  he taunted. 

"Never. I'll die first..." 

Next moment air whooshed from her lungs as a sucker punch to her midsection caused her to sink to her knees. Someone bent down, his face close enough to hers that she could see pure aggression in them. Aggression and cruelty. He pulled her roughly to her feet. Then he tripped her, a cowardly move on his part. They were winning, so why trip her?  She landed heavily, face down on the hard floor. In a strange haze she noticed the blood on her hands, realising that her nose was bleeding. 

They taunted her, male adversaries circling like hyenas. 

"You want command track? Be strong? Be a part of us? You're our weakest link. We need to toughen you." 

_It also means making good decisions, even unpopular ones… It means leadership, you moronic fool._  

Slowly she rose to her feet again. The chanting continued. Her wordless objections kept her going. Wiping her bleeding nose with the back of her hand, Janeway moved to hit the one nearest to her, an ineffectual jab, it seemed. They kept coming. She kept fighting. Once, in a daze, she struck a cadet, her fist landing against his jaw. She heard a crack, cried out because her knuckles were grazed from the force of the blow. 

"Bitch!" 

Retaliation was swift. A stinging blow cut her eyebrow. Blood spurted as Kathryn slowly keeled backwards, falling so hard that she blacked out momentarily. She groaned to wakefulness, got up and staggered drunkenly for a few seconds. She prayed it would end. They weren't finished with her. Gritting her teeth tried to remember why she was here in the first place… 

"You need to toughen up, Cadet Janeway, if command track is what you really want." 

"Not by your method, surely?" she'd asked. They were on manoeuvers. She was the only female cadet opting for command. She'd heard about the bullring for years and always thought it was a big inside joke designed to strike fear into the female cadets. Some prejudices never changed… 

"We have one set of rules," the tall Romulan instructor had told her impassively. "Do not imagine we have a different set of rules for females." 

"But - " 

She readily admitted that physical fitness was part of the regime of training for leadership. But this? Circling a so-called weak cadet and beating the hell out of him or her? She had wanted to argue that studying command track didn't necessarily depend wholly on physical prowess, until Henry King, arrogant squadron member built like a bull himself, pulled her towards him. 

"We are an exclusive squadron, Janeway. You're part of a team. A slight chink in that chain can cause a team to fail. Success is built on how strong every link is. We're the best of the best. You don't succeed here, you're out! Now change and get to the gym." 

Henry King was good, but uncontrolled. She didn't think he was command material. There was a mean streak in him. She prayed that they were never commissioned to the same vessels. Ever.

They were on an old constellation class training vessel, the USS Brigadoon, in orbit around Earth. She'd given a sigh. She was always strong, fast and agile, perhaps not able to match the physicality of her more abrasive male counterparts. It was irregular. This kind of toughening had been prohibited by Starfleet Command, yet they continued in secret. 

Complaining was the very last thing she'd wanted to do. Being branded a coward and snitch while on command maneuvers was surely the end of her attempts to grade with distinction . So she'd reluctantly complied, sceptical about the group's motives. She was targeted because of her sex, of that there was no doubt. She had beaten the best of the seniors at almost everything, even bat-leth fighting with Bro'dal, a Klingon cadet who hailed her courage and conceded defeat like a man. A cadet who was not part of the circling hyenas she'd noticed belatedly… 

Now she was fighting for her future. 

Slowly Janeway steadied herself, wiping away blood dripping into her eye. She heard doors that swished open and shut. She noticed shadowy figures moving behind the row of cadets in her direct line of sight. What were they doing here on the Brigadoon? Did they come to enjoy a spectacle that was supposed to be outlawed? This was not a boxing ring where the fight was at least equal. 

Then the cadets began their taunting again. She was ready although she couldn't see properly through her right eye. The cadet immediately in front of her jabbed her in the ribs. 

"Come on, Janeway! Give us a fight! You've only tickled us so far." 

Cadet Clayborne, second weakest link, according to Henry King. She could beat Clayborne in hand-to-hand combat. She could go for him, but then she turned her gaze on that smirking King. He had no business in command track. A bully if ever there was one and one who obtained the lowest assessments in all of their courses. It was a wonder they hadn't thrown him out in year 1. 

King laughed - a loud cackling strident laugh. Then he slapped his chest. 

"You want a piece of me, bitch?" 

Janeway breathed in carefully, maintaining her equilibrium. _Channel your anger, Janeway… Don't let him rile you…_  

One of the shadows moved into her line of sight.  For a second her eyes connected with his. He looked almost angry. Then he gestured in hand movements of a boxer. 

Feign left jab - pull back. Pull back right arm. Punch.  She understood the combinations. 

Henry was her target. Big, very muscular, he provoked her by throwing imaginary punches, laughing as he looked to his fellow cadets for support. 

Kathryn skipped lightly despite her pain. She lunged with the feigned left jab her unexpected promotor showed her, then pulled back instantly. Henry stood motionless trying to figure her movements. Quick as a snake's bite she pulled her right back and punched him hard against his temple. The force winded her slightly, but she remained on her feet. 

The blow dazed King. He was confused. Janeway exploited his confusion instantly as she began raining blows on him as he stumbled about. She threw another hard punch.  She heard the hyenas gasp. As King sank to his knees, she delivered the final blow in a swift move, going down on one knee and ramming her elbow as hard as she could into his back. Henry King pitched forward slowly and fell on his face. 

Janeway stood up and glared at the hyenas. Her right eye was swollen shut by this time. Henry lay unconscious on the deck. She wanted to deliver a kick to the ribs but controlled herself. The dog was already down…and out.  Kathryn breathed a giant sigh of relief. It was an unequal fight. She still bristled at the unfairness of it. It didn't make her tougher, simply more determined to overcome inequality. She stepped in front of a cadet, who jumped back thinking she would hit him too.  

"You did say if I can knock one of you unconscious…" 

"Then you win," Cadet Honeycombe said. "You make the new rule." 

"This will not happen again," she warned, "to any cadet." 

"Understood!" Clayborne promised. 

They began clapping slowly, their eyes filled with admiration. Under normal circumstances they were her friends, her classmates. She brought down the strongest cadet who would not live down the beating she gave him. She sensed they'd been bought over by King. He was going to be thrown off the team, of that she was certain. 

She glanced at the ensigns who had entered earlier. How did they decrypt the code of the locked gym doors? she wondered. Standing hands folded across his chest, her mystery promotor smiled at her. Maybe it was the dimples, she thought absently. He had jet black hair and appeared very tanned. When he raised his hand in a salute she nodded. It was too painful to smile.   

Henry King groaned awake, but remained on the floor. She had a feeling no one was going to assist him. 

Shaking her head, Janeway headed for the gym doors. She needed to get to sick bay, certain she had a cracked rib and split lip. The cut above her eye needed sutures and her nose was broken. She tasted blood in her mouth. Did she rupture an internal organ too? She felt suddenly a little faint. 

But she had won the fight. A stranger with obvious boxing experience showed her exactly how to beat the snot out of Henry King. She staggered and would have fallen down had someone not caught her, bracing her as they walked down the corridor to the nearest turbolift. 

When they reached sickbay, she stopped outside the doors. Her helper was taller than she imagined and a lot handsomer although he looked concerned. A warmth spread through her. 

"Hey…" 

"Thank you," she said. "I - er…" 

"I know. See the medic, lie to him about your injuries and lie about the bullring, right?" 

"Yes, er…" 

"Oh, I'm Ensign Chakotay, currently on leave from the Melbourne. Came to check out our old haunts on the Brigadoon. Didn't expect what we witnessed today. And you are…?" 

"Cadet Janeway. Kathryn Janeway." 

When the sick doors opened, Janeway hesitated a moment before entering. 

"What's on your mind?" he asked, concerned. 

"Henry King will hate me forever," she said quietly. 

"Don't worry, Janeway. I've got your back." 

**

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The research I've done for J & C's ages and their years of training at Starfleet Academy, led me to some rather conflicting representations. For my story, I needed Janeway to be an Academy Cadet while Chakotay is already serving on a starship as an ensign. He 1) is three years older than Kathryn in the story, and 2) because of his early admittance to the Academy, graduates before her, ca. 2348-49.
> 
> 2\. Usually in military training, sometimes a soldier is subjected to extreme physical fighting in a ring where all who surround him join in "toughening" him up. The idea that a team is only as strong as its weakest link is the logic behind this prohibited practice.


End file.
